Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting or Neverwinter Nights 2. Those belong to JK Rowling and the geniuses at Wizards of the Coast and Obsidian Entertainment, respectively.
Yet, Never, in Extremity
Holidays
"Hope" is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I've heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of Me.
- Emily Dickinson
Harry had found, in the past two years, that Faerûn was very different from Privet Drive, not least of all the new languages that he'd had to learn.
He had a real family there, even if they weren't really related to him. He had Mama Lyssi and Papa Gann, Callum, Grampa Daeghun, Auntie Min, and lots and lots more nice aunts and uncles and cousins who are always glad to see him. He especially liked Auntie Neeshka and "Cousin" Wolf because they were fun and they were teaching him and Callum how to sneak around and pick locks and fun stuff like that. He also really liked Ivarr the Blessed, the cleric at the Temple of Tyr. Harry was going to start studying with him when he turned seven. Callum thought those lessons were going to be boring, but Harry was sure they wouldn't be.
That was another thing that was different. Privet Drive was boring, nothing but chores and the cupboard and his old family and houses that looked exactly the same. Crossroad Keep was a real actual castle, with a garrison of real live soldiers; Mama Lyssi was a real knight, one that was really really important in Neverwinter. Maybe there wasn't any electricity and maybe it was kind of like stepping into a fairytale, but that just made it even cooler to Harry.
He didn't even mind the chores he had now, even when he and Callum had to go help Mr. Orlen in the fields at harvest time. It was just fetching tools and carrying water, after all, and everybody pitched in to get the work done, even Mr. Orlen even though he was really old. It was like a big fair, everyone laughing and working and good-natured.
Holidays were different there, too. Uncle Vernon always took Saturdays and Sundays off from Grunnings, but everyone at the Keep worked every day but five or six in the year. There was Midwinter, Greengrass, Midsummer, Highharvestide, and Harry thought next year was supposed to be Shieldmeet. Or was it the year after that?
But Harry's favorite holiday wasn't any of those, though Mama Lyssi and Miss Kana always put on a really good festival with the nearby village for those. No, Harry's favorite was the Feast of the Moon. It was a day to remember the dead, and Mama Lyssi always told him and Callum so many stories. Stories about Harry's real parents, about the man Callum was named for, about her friends and all of the people she knew in West Harbor and at Hogwarts and in Neverwinter and Rashemen. Sometimes they could talk Papa Gann into telling a few stories, but even Papa Gann agreed that all three of the "boys" liked Mama Lyssi's stories best. They're told in such a way that it seemed like he was right there, and she knew how to use her magic and even the little changes in her voice and her face to make them even better.
So when she came in that night, that time of year, to put he and Callum to bed, he had a very important question.
"Mama Lyssi? Would you please tell us the story about when my mum and dad fought the evil wizard?"
Mama Lyssi smiled and sat down on the foot of Callum's bed, and Harry could see Papa Gann lurking in the doorway with a small smile on his face. "Of course, sweetling. Now, just after your parents and I had left Hogwarts, the evil wizard Voldemort was getting even stronger than he already was…"
